


I Want You (burning deep and down inside my head)

by VelveteenPrince



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blindfolds, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Consent, Gags, Other, Sensory Deprivation, Sounding, angsty porn, lil bit of blood, sorta angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelveteenPrince/pseuds/VelveteenPrince
Summary: How Asra manages to excite Lucio as much as scare him, he'll never know... Not that it matters, he's not planning on admitting it any time soon. Not even to himself.As for Asra, well, he's not enjoying the wait.





	I Want You (burning deep and down inside my head)

**Author's Note:**

> [The song the title's from](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gP1ph-NldI0)
> 
> Also, this is for a series of tumblr prompt(s): “ Put me down! ”; “ Take off your clothes. ” ; “ We cant do that here! ” tho they were changed up a bit
> 
> (Does this happen pre-Asrian? Your guess is as good as mine)

_He should have sent for someone else._

He got tired of the hollow clicks echoing in the library with each frustrated step of his heels. Asra always took his damn sweet time getting there. No matter if he was in the room next to his or another wing entirely. Never caring that Lucio’s impatience gnawed deep inside him as his boredom grew. Even the _tic tic tic tic_ of his metal claws against the marble desk began to get under his skin after one too many times hearing it.

Anyone would have sufficed at this point.

.

.

.

Is what he would want to believe. But truth was, whenever his stress bubbled to the surface until it became almost unbearable, there just wasn’t anyone as fun to play with than his very own magician. Even if discipline wasn’t among said magician’s finer traits.

Although, perhaps it was _precisely_ this lack of discipline that made Asra so enticing. Like he’s asking to be pulled apart. _Begging_ to be punished so slow he forgets what a life without pain feels like.

Yeah. If it was for Asra, he could wait a little longer.

It doesn’t take long before he hears lazy steps approach. Nothing out of the ordinary for a palace with so many servants. But what makes him nearly jump to his feet are the shadows blocking out the streak of light underneath the door as they come to a stop.

Anticipation builds under his skin. Each lock gives in with an exacerbating, empty sound. Music to his poor, unstimulated ears. Asra emerges from the palace’s warm lights, the golden glow framing his figure vanishing along with the sound of every lock falling back into place, still silence taking over.

“You called?”

The urge to leap towards him and tear his clothes to shreds with his very own claws itched inside him. It would serve as a lesson. And a statement. A wordless _Lucio was here_ message for everyone to see in the marks littering his body, on full display as he returned naked to his room. _Yes. That would be fun._

But Asra was special. The thrill of becoming hunter and prey was the kind of foreplay he wasn’t fond of skipping. Not for such a feisty prey.

Exhilaration pumps inside his ears as he stands from his chair. He curls a gold pleated finger at Asra, his teeth baring into a grin as he watches him take stiff steps forward, arms never unfolding from his chest.

“Take off your clothes.” He demands when Asra stops in front of him, close enough to have to tilt his head. Ah, it was becoming harder and harder to keep still.

Asra raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong with your hands?”

Growing impatient, his metal arm surges forward, gripping fabric with enough force to nip skin as he pulls Asra up to his nose, earning him a delicious sharp breath. “I’m not in the mood to be gentle with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Asra spits out, challenging eyes bored into him as he frees himself from his grip. Aside from his wrinkled robes, he remains unperturbed, arms folding in front of his chest again like nothing happened. “Just get it over with so I can go back to my room.”

It’s all Lucio needs to hear before he’s pinning Asra against the window. The glass rattles and, for a second, Asra lets himself wince before the fire in his eyes returns to glare daggers up at Lucio over his shoulder.

“Someone needs to shatter that big pride of yours.” Says Lucio, practically purring as he pushes Asra’s hair back, exposing his nape to allow room for his teeth, already tingling with the need to dig into sensitive skin.

The corners of his eyes tighten. “Shame it won’t be you.”

Lucio’s lips curl upwards. Amusement shining through as his claws tear sheer silk off Asra’s shoulders. Delicate fabric rips apart before it falls, crumpling up at his feet. The fading traces of Lucio’s claws, left from a previous session, greet him to a bare back, tense with anger. Heavy breaths pushed through gritted teeth fog the glass.

Heels step on now ruined clothes as Lucio slips a leg between Asra’s thighs. He’s determined to ignore Asra’s breath catching in his throat when,

“Wait—” He says, trying to push himself off the window. “We can’t do it here.”

_Did he sound...?_ No, that's impossible. Confused, Lucio follows Asra’s eyes, scanning the garden. It takes a few times of adjusting his sight to finally spot Doctor Devorak, sitting under a tree, nose-deep in a book. A certain warmth spreads in his chest as realization dawns on him. Up until now he’d only ever been able to get one reaction out of Asra. He never pleads, never begs. Not to Lucio, at least. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel even the least bit ecstatic.

He arches an eyebrow, making no attempt to move. “Shall we call him in?” Says Lucio, running cold, metal claws up Asra’s scalp. “I always did love an audience.”

He doesn’t notice the hand reaching for his free arm until a sharp pain flares up under his skin, thorns shooting inside his veins and crawling like vines towards his shoulder.

With a hiss Lucio lets go of him, jolting backwards, grabbing his wrist. He turns his arm upwards and downwards to find the source of the pain, realizing that not only had it stopped, it had left not a single mark on him.

“I _said_ ,” Asra peels himself from the window, breathless but otherwise unfazed. “We can’t do it here.”

He holds Asra’s gaze, stifling the shiver that threatens to run down his spine. Were it anyone else, Lucio might have taught them a lesson or two on disobeying the Count. More specifically, that you _don’t_. With Asra, though, he just might have to be a little more careful when pushing the limits of what he can do to him.

So instead he says, “fine.” Composing himself as his hands reach for his belt. With a jerk of the chin, he instructs Asra to step further into the library.

 

 ---***---

 

Asra knew the punishment would be worse.

Refusing Lucio meant he would go to any length to reassert his dominance over him. Which he found strange. Defying him had precisely been an act of weakness on his part… Well, that and selfishness. He didn’t want to have to explain, especially not to Ilya, why it was absolutely necessary for him to go along with Lucio’s whims, as far as they would go.

Yeah, it was more selfishness than anything.

He tugs at the belt restraining him, twisting leather between his hands. It doesn’t show any signs of giving in. Not that trying to escape would do him any good. Not when Lucio was planning to make this as drawn out as possible already. Tying him by the wrists to a hook on the wall barely tall enough for him to stand on the tip of his toes was only the beginning.

His sigh gets lost in an empty library.

Soon enough (or perhaps too soon), Lucio returns, startling Asra with the crash of the door falling shut behind him. He keeps both arms hidden behind his back as he approaches, and Asra swears that annoying grin of his only gets wider with each step he takes.

“Miss me?” His eyes glint with an excitement that just screamed nothing good could come from it. Asra can’t help but lean his head as far away as possible.

“Can’t say I did, no.”

Lucio's smile doesn’t so much as waver as he straightens, feigning ignorance to any and all words coming out of Asra’s mouth. “I brought some stuff we can have fun with.”

He found that hard to believe. But then again, Lucio did always have a warped sense of fun. Asra didn’t doubt for a second that he believed what he was doing to be nothing more than a game. One he had already decided he was the winner of.

The first item he pulls out isn’t exactly encouraging.

There’s no more space for him to lean away as Lucio leans in. The world fades around him as forceful hands tie the ends of a long, black piece of fabric behind his head.

Lucio seems pleased with his work, pushing Asra’s chin up as if to make sure not a single ray of light could slip through any creases in the blindfold. He should have guessed this would happen. What better way to ensure nothing he sees could cause another distraction to Lucio’s… ‘ _fun.’_

“Gone too quiet. Afraid of a little dark?”

Asra snorts, jerking his head away when Lucio’s thumb drags across his lower lip. “More like getting sleepy.”

He gets a huff in response. “Then we can move on to the next item.”

It’s all the warning he gets before something tickles his ear, sending pins and needles up his spine. Lucio catches his head when he tries to jerk away this time, nails digging into his jaw to hold him in place as he inserts a small, bud-like plug into his ear. He takes his time securing it, paying no mind to Asra’s squirms.

Metal claws replace the flesh hand holding his chin. Asra’s muscles tense as Lucio screws in a twin plug in his other ear, taking his hearing away completely. The soft, almost unnoticeable, whisper of the wind outside; Lucio’s low chuckle; sounds he wasn’t even aware he was hearing. Gone. And the sounds his very own body tried to let out were now locked tightly inside him. Reverberating in his skull instead of scattering into the library’s stone walls and wooden bookshelves.

He shifts his weight, discomfort coiling inside him now that he’s at the mercy of his remaining senses. For a moment, —a long, excruciating moment of suffocating stillness—he thinks Lucio might have left the room, abandoning him to an hour or two of utter deprivation.

He’s proven wrong when metal claws find his face again, turning it this way and that. Lucio’s voice is too muffled to make out through his stuffed ears, but it _feels_ like a warning. One he doesn’t get enough time to heed before wincing pain shoots straight for his skull.

A sharp claw carves a path down his cheek, supple flesh giving in like a blossoming flower. It stings. His face heats up as the first beads of blood begin to roll down the wound.

He doesn’t get another warning, nor a second to think before hot, wet flesh laps at his face. Realizing Lucio licked him doesn’t make it more bearable, but what makes his heart pound against his ribcage is the fact that he couldn’t brace for it. And he still can’t. His mind too hazy to think up a spell that could help him.

He’s half expecting the gag. Doesn’t make it any more welcome, but he knows there’s no use in fighting it as it’s tightly secured behind his head, his teeth biting into what feels like even more leather.

Through the gag, Lucio’s fingers press against his mouth. He doesn’t feel cold. Or warmth. He can’t tell if it is his flesh hand or his metal hand and it _bothers him_.

That is, until that hand drags down and he can feel sharp edges pinch his skin. Here. There… Lucio’s teeth soon join, digging into him. One second above his hip, the next at his collarbone, then right under his jawline. He seems to want to be as unpredictable as possible. And Asra. Asra’s at the mercy of the sensations travelling his body.

Firm fingers wrap around his dick. Every last fiber in his body wants to recoil in on itself. Hot beads of sweat trickle down his skin as dread sets in. And _lingers._

He can’t know for how long. And though he can’t hear a single breath leave Lucio’s lips, he can tell he’s enjoying himself.

A faint smell reaches his nose. Coated in a much stronger scent; a leaf-based mixture he recognizes from certain ointments. What was—

He chokes on a gasp as cold, hard metal teases his urethra. But no—it’s not Lucio’s claw this time. What _is_ it? His stomach turns as he tries to pull back, only for the grip on his dick to tighten, holding him in place as what feels like a metal stick probes into him, whatever substance it’s coated with gathering at the tip.

Small bumps in the metal force their way inside his cock. His toes curl, unable to do much else but _feel_ himself be pried open. His muscles sting, instinctively trying to contract around the unfamiliar sensation as it reaches the base of his dick. Pain spreads like a thousand thorns beneath his skin. His own choked cries bouncing off inside his skull as they bubble up in his throat.

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get used to it. Every nerve in his body yelling at him that _that_ should _not_ be inside his body. _He needs to cum._ Or at least, his brain is convinced he does. Sparks of something akin to pleasure travelling like lightning straight for his cock.

Tears dampen the cloth around his eyes,—when did he start crying?— as one of Lucio’s claws, or perhaps a nail, (it's hard to even tell up from down so at this point it could be either) ticks on the head of the metal rod. Once. _Twice_. Sending a spiral of vibrations up and down his cock, tickling his urethra, stimulating him from the inside out.

“—Said, you should hear yourself scream.” A wave of sounds assaults his senses when Lucio removes an earplug. The first of which are his own ragged breaths, drowning out whatever Lucio was telling him.

It must be something about the gag, as he is carefully removing it the next moment. Saliva spills out of his open mouth but he can’t bring himself to close it, or care. His mind still focused on the weight inside his cock, much more prominent now that Lucio wasn’t holding it.

“Ready to plead for me to release you?” Shivers run down his spine when Lucio’s fingers dig into his hair, massaging his scalp with a level of care almost offensive for what that same hand was doing to him not ten seconds ago.

Is that what it was all about? He wants Asra to _beg?_

He’s about ready to spit on his face when Lucio’s fingers leave his hair to curl around his dick again. Asra’s voice echoes in the library, a broken sob that gets interrupted by a shudder when he feels his orgasm closing in without warning. The stimulation must have been too much.

The sensation is much, much worse when Lucio tightens his grip, growing frustrated. “Is that a _no_?”

He pants instead of responding, mind clouded as he climaxes. His back collides with hard stone, rough against naked skin, leaving scratches as his whole body spasms, releasing every last bit of adrenaline that allowed him to push through the strain to his muscles.

What remains of his strength is barely enough to hold himself up, the belt restraining his wrists barely helping. But even that threatens to run out at any moment as he comes down from his dry orgasm.

“...me...down.” His ears ring. Whatever his mouth lets out, his mind remains unaware of.

“What was that?” Lucio's words are distant. _Everything_ , in fact, is slipping from his hold.

He takes a deep breath, the last he can muster in his dazed state. Holding his head up despite not knowing nor caring where Lucio is. “Put. Me. Down.” He demands, using up the last of his strength before passing out.

  
\---***---

 

The pain returns gradually as he regains consciousness.

He's not blindfolded, anymore. Yet he doesn’t immediately see his surroundings as his eyes flutter open. The material covering his eyes is different. Loose, not tied around his head, letting light through the bottom. He lifts an arm to get it off, wincing as his wrists refuse to work like they should. He’d have to heal himself when he recovered some strength.

He’s in his room. Well, his _palace_ room.

As his gaze falls from the ceiling, it lands on a familiar figure, mindlessly flipping through one of Asra's books. _He must have left it lying around._ Is the first thought that crosses his mind before another makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“Asra. You’re awake.” There’s surprise, and relief in his voice as he scrambles to his feet, the book falling shut on the chair.

His throat is dry. Too dry to form words. It's a miracle he manages to find his voice.

“What are you doing in my roon, Ilya?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Anon for allowing me to write one of my favorite ships~ 
> 
> Come find me @the-velveteen-prince on tumblr


End file.
